This Time Imperfect
by armyofgnomes
Summary: Renji knows he'll never by good enough for Byakuya, yet he continues to try, scraping his fangs at the moon. Or throwing paper airplanes at his taicho. . . angst, eventually requited love, and romance: Byaren yaoi/shonen-ai in all its loveliness.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer (for all chapters): Bleach belongs to Kubo Tite, this story belong to me.

At least partly inspired by the A.F.I. song This Time Imperfect, though I won't pretend the song Paper Airplanes (makeshift wings) played no part in this . . . What can I say, I love getting behind Byakuya's mask and showing what he really thinks. I always have them doing paperwork it seems, must be some kind of euphemism . . . and would they call them "paper airplanes" in Seireitei? Just my random thoughts. This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it kinda spread . . . forgive me. ? Anyway, on with the story:

* * *

Byakuya paused his brush for a moment, the tip hovering above the transfer request he was about to sign. His fukutaicho, Abarai Renji, had just completed a paper airplane he'd been working on instead of his own stacks of paperwork, and was staring at Byakuya with a mischievous look in his eyes. Byakuya didn't change his expression at all, keeping his face as blank as usual, but he did sharpen his gaze. His grey eyes met Renji's reddish ones, sending a silent message of "Try it and die, fukutaicho."

This glare had always been extremely efficient at ending whatever mischief his often-bored fukutaicho seemed to be up to, but for a reason Byakuya couldn't comprehend, it seemed to have lost its effectiveness over the past few weeks. This underlying promise of death and casual Senbonzakura dismemberment now seemed only to provoke Renji into completing his disobedience, as if daring his taicho to go through with this threat, just once. Either Renji had gained a rather sizeable death wish recently, or he was questioning his taicho's authority.

True to either scenario, Renji picked the airplane up by the base he'd folded and carefully shaped for aerodynamics, bringing his arm back just behind his head. He didn't possess Byakuya's skill at hiding his feelings, probably out of choice, so Byakuya knew the evil grin that now spread to reveal a flash of white teeth was exactly how his fukutaicho felt.

Trying a different strategy of ignoring the threat to his authority, Byakuya turned his eyes back to the brush in his hand. Dipping it liberally in ink, he began to sign his name in a careful, graceful script he was rather proud of. He was adding one last elegant line to the kanji spelling out his first name when the airplane struck the inkpot, not only spilling it all over the report he was signing, but splattering the flawless white of his sixth squad haori.

For once in his life, Byakuya wished to lose his temper in a violent and loud manner, complete with slamming fists and loud curses. However, that time was not today, as Byakuya would not allow Renji the credit for finally setting him off. While being the head of the Kuchiki family had given him ample time to gather explosives, it had also, thankfully, let him become practiced in maintaining a very long fuse. Rationality set in to fade the anger. Robes could be replaced, paperwork could be redone, even his precious script could be signed again. However, his fukutaicho did need to learn that insubordination would not be tolerated.

Coming to his feet in one smooth movement, Byakuya once again met the eyes of his fukutaicho. He had admittedly expected surprise to be reflected back to him, doubting that Renji's target had been the inkpot. His noble Kenseikan perhaps, to knock them askew, or to scatter his own stack of papers around the room, something that could be made perfect again easily. But Byakuya had not expected to see something resembling guilt in those eyes, almost remorse, as if Renji wished to call the airplane back to himself and unmake it.

"Renji," Byakuya said pointedly, the look in Renji's eyes telling Byakuya that his fukutaicho had been dreading the moment he would break the awkward silence.

"I would in the future prefer your attention dwelled on sloppily inking your own paperwork, and not mine," Byakuya continued, slipping an insult in with his cold tone. Crumpling the paper airplane in one white-gloved hand, Byakuya swept from the office, his departure making it clear that cleaning up the mess would be left to his fukutaicho.

#

Renji stood behind his own desk in the office his taicho had left empty, slight anger and embarrassment replacing the sudden shock and guilt he'd experienced after meeting Byakuya's eyes. It was true that you could tell the difference in signature and handwriting on their paperwork from yards away, but he didn't have to put it like that.

_It's not like I meant to hit the damn inkpot_, Renji thought, thumping his fist on the desk and nearly spilling his own inkpot.

He knew that Byakuya would be back, and that he would expect the mess on his desk to be cleaned up by that time. Renji grudgingly crossed the room, looking around for a way to quickly clean up the ink, as if he expected a box of tissues or a towel to be lying around just for his use. He finally stripped off his black shinigami over-kimono, deciding it wouldn't make a difference; black is black.

Wearing only his hakama and his legendary tattoos, Renji began to mop up the mess, thankful that it at least hadn't spread so far as the other stacks of paperwork on the desk. The only ruined piece was the one Byakuya had been working on at the moment when the airplane had hit the inkpot. Renji picked it up by a clean corner and carried it to his own trashbin, assuming Byakuya wouldn't want the excess ink to dirty even his trash.

_It'd do him good to have something not be so perfect every now and again_, Renji thought, groaning at the ink that was now all over his hands._ Guess that's my role in this squad, to be something he can't control._

Renji stopped himself in this thought, knowing it wasn't true, knowing Byakuya controlled him even now, when Renji was alone. His own well-trained fukutaicho, dutifully cleaning the mess he'd made.

_I just wanted to see that stupid face with an expression on it, just once._

Renji corrected the thought in his own head, wanting to believe it was safe there to express his true feelings._ I just wanted him to acknowledge my existence. I wanted. . . I wanted him to smile at me. Wanted him to look at me. Wanted him to. . . ._

That thought, that feeling, wasn't safe anywhere, and Renji stopped it before it could make itself known. It wasn't right to have such feelings about a man, especially not his taicho. But Renji so desperately wanted to shatter the ice that Byakuya surrounded himself with, to be the one who Byakuya would show the face behind the mask to.

_Useless thoughts, useless dreams_, Renji told himself, turning his thoughts back to how thankful he was that his taicho's desk was a sleek, shining black, making it impossible to tell that ink had ever been spilt upon its perfect, unmarred surface.

Tossing his crumpled shinigami robes behind his desk, he stared ruefully down at his hands, now spotted with black.

_Doesn't matter. I'll never be good enough, _perfect_ enough, for him anyway_, Renji thought, setting his mind to sloppily inking up some of his own paperwork, as his taicho had suggested. Dutiful to the end.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Byakuya hadn't noticed until he'd already left the squad building that he still had Renji's paper airplane clutched in his hand. Miraculously, the white of the paper hadn't been marred by the ink it had spilled, something Byakuya realized he should have considered before picking the thing up at all. He nearly opened his hand, to let it drop to the ground at his feet, but he stopped himself. Returning it to a less vengeful grip in his hand, he used a few quick shunpo to reach his home, not wanting to be seen covered in ink as he was.

After exchanging his ink-spotted robes with clean ones, Byakuya relaxed in his rooms, deciding to give Renji some time to clean up the mess and think about the results of his insubordination. He picked the paper airplane up from the table he'd set it on while he changed, smoothing a few of the crumples his grip had given it earlier. Experimentally, he raised it as Renji had and tossed it. It didn't glide the way he'd expected it would, instead shooting to the ground like a wounded bird. He didn't deign to bend and pick it up, instead turned his attention from it to think of his words to Renji.

He hoped his message had been clear, that there were times and places for such things as lightheartedness and humor, and their shared office during working hours was not one of them. Perhaps he'd been a bit too harsh . . . no, he'd been forceful but truthful, that was all. Renji needed to be put in his place sharply and quickly, without any nuances left for him to frolic in, and Byakuya had accomplished this.

He returned to the office a leisurely hour later, gliding in without giving a look toward Renji. As he'd expected, his desk was neat and orderly once more, without a trace of the mishap remaining. It seemed Renji had even refilled his inkpot, placing it a bit to the right of where he usually let his papers rest. Just as Byakuya always kept it.

He sat, sliding his chair the tiniest bit closer to his desk, carefully avoiding making an uncultured scraping sound on the wood floor. Arranging his sleeves a bit more comfortably for writing, he addressed his fukutaicho, glancing up as he did.

"Renji, about the paper that was dirtied-" was as far as he got before he registered the sight before him, and his mind became an utter blank. Renji sat at his desk, glaring across it at Byakuya, his chest bare save for his tattoos. It took a great deal of self-control for Byakuya to avoid bugging his eyes out. Yes, he had seen Renji topless before, Renji often removed the over-kimono of his shinigami outfit during the hot days of summer. It was just that at those times Byakuya had warning, and could carefully avoid getting caught up in those well-formed muscles, those leading lines of tattoos. Even the angry little glare Renji was giving him was desirable, almost making Byakuya want to turn up the corners of his mouth in a smile at his fukutaicho's immaturity. It was _cute._

"What about it?" Renji said, brushing the guilt of the "dirtied" paper off of his shoulders with a touch of irritation in his tone.

Byakuya got a hold of himself, meeting Renji's eyes and trying to ignore the spread of very nice skin that his peripheral vision still forced him to comprehend.

"It will need to be replaced," was about all he could stay while maintaining his indifferent tone. Forcing himself to forget the feelings that were now rising in his stomach, he clarified his last statement.

"A transfer request from one of thirteenth squad's members, so it will need to be obtained from Ukitake-taicho."

He knew Renji would understand that this was his duty as well, an extension of cleaning up the mess he'd made, the consequence of his actions. His tone had not implied that Renji needed to hurry to get this done, and as Renji made a non-committal noise and turned back to his own paperwork, Byakuya knew he had understood. But he knew just as well that Renji would get the necessary paperwork from Ukitake before the end of the day, however he needed to. No matter how he acted when bored, Byakuya knew Renji was always seeking the respect of his taicho.

#

Getting the paperwork from Ukitake-taicho wasn't as complicated as it could have been, although Renji had to make up a reason for why it needed to be replaced. Thankfully, Ukitake-taicho believed that it had just gotten lost in the shuffle of papers between departments, and quickly gave him a new one. He hadn't even spared an odd look for Renji's topless state. As Renji walked the long way back to the sixth squad offices, he groaned inwardly, realizing it was already long past noon. His stomach reciprocated the thought with an angry sound, reminding Renji that lunch needed to come into his schedule at some point.

_I need something quick to eat at my desk, cause at this rate, I'm gonna be doin' paperwork __all day__._

By the time he finally reentered the office he and Byakuya shared, Byakuya was already gone, his desk clean of papers. Renji glared at the stacks on his own desk, daring this day to get any worse. It was past five by the time he was finally able to clean his own desk of all the paperwork on it, his efforts to get out quickly hindered by his efforts to tidy up his handwriting a little.

He wanted nothing more than sake and a good sprawl on his futon, and being one who generally obliged his wants, he soon found himself semi-drunk and sleepy in his room, wondering where all the light had gone. He decided to let the sun setting be a cue to catch some sleep, but his closed eyes didn't let him relax. Even a whole bottle of sake didn't fade the lingering sting of his taicho's remark from earlier that day.

_Does he really think I'm sloppy? _he wondered, his tired mind ignoring the fact that the statement had been directed toward his paperwork, not necessarily himself.

_Well, I do kinda pride myself on my sloppiness, around everyone. . . everyone but him._

Renji lay on his bed for nearly a half an hour, unable to sleep, pillowed by half-drunken self pity, before he finally pushed himself up to get another bottle of sake. He knew his jumbled thoughts wouldn't allow him to sleep until he was fully-out-of-it drunk, so brought the entire bottle to his lips, downing it quickly in an attempt to get completely plastered.

_Byakuya stood before Renji, meeting his eyes with those cold grey orbs that always told him to look away. But as he stared into those eyes, defied their order, Renji's own fire and passion seemed to transfer in the gaze, melting the ice into shimmering pools, the wall Byakuya surrounded himself with into a wave of water that crashed soundlessly at their feet._

_Renji stepped toward his taicho, but suddenly found himself drowning in the water that had melted from Byakuya's icy facade. He tried to swim, but found he couldn't do more than thrash frantically to keep his head above the water. Byakuya stepped toward him, and the water froze over again, the cold radiating from his taicho reforming the wall effortlessly. Renji found himself pulled upward, trapped in the icy sheet, unable to move, unable to do anything but stare into those cold eyes he couldn't seem to melt again._

_"Renji," Byakuya said, his voice light, unfeeling. He stepped toward the wall, his eyes level with Renji's, boring into him. Renji forced himself to keep the gaze, not to look away like he so desperately wanted to. He could feel the fire within him diminish with every step Byakuya took._

_Byakuya reached out to touch Renji's chin, running his long fingers along his jaw-line. Each contact left a trail of icy sensation, and Renji would have shivered if he felt he could move at all._

_"Ice and fire do not mix," he continued, his voice quiet, each word breathing cold air onto Renji. _

_"Don't try to touch me if you can't control the result."_

_"Control," Byakuya whispered, leaning in toward Renji, "must be maintained."_

_He let his frozen lips meet Renji's, and there was a sudden rush of heat. The ice around them was melting again, but Byakuya held him this time, and he wasn't sinking, he was floating, unable to think about anything but the soft fingers that were twining through his hair, and the lips that were on his, warm and responsive._

He didn't remember falling asleep, didn't remember dreaming. The way-too-bright sunlight woke him the next day in stiff, sore pain, only his bottom half actually on his futon. The part of him that mattered most at the moment, meaning his pounding head, was pressed to the painfully hard floor, his upper spine bent into a painful curve. He righted himself as quickly as he could without being suicidal, cradling his head in one hand while massaging his back with the other.

"Damn idiot," he cursed, addressing himself. Now he would have a lovely throbbing hangover to match his mood, as well as other assorted pains. He couldn't turn his neck to the right without nearly gasping in pain, and a quick deep massage to his spine with his knuckles did nothing but spread the discomfort.

He was smoothing his black over-kimono out before putting it on when he noticed several large areas on the front that were a deeper black than their surroundings. He held it up, examining it closer, then wadded it back into a ball and threw it across the room. Apparently shinigami black and ink black weren't the same thing after all.

Thankfully, he had a spare he could wear until he washed the other. He hoped that would be enough to get rid of the ink stains, although judging from the fact that black still spotted his hands, he might have to replace the robes. Just one more thing to brighten his already wonderful day.

He doubted that seeing Byakuya would do anything to relieve the irritable mood he was in, but it wasn't like he could outwardly avoid his taicho. Dragging his feet all the way, he reached their shared office, glancing over at Byakuya's desk as he entered to catch a look at his taicho. Byakuya sat at his desk, regal and refined, not even glancing up from the paper he was signing as his subordinate slammed the door. Renji took his seat behind a much larger stack of papers, brow wrinkled in irritation, getting to work.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Byakuya stood just a little after noon, finished with his paperwork for the day. As he stepped toward the door, he glanced down at where Renji sat addressing his paperwork. The redhead held his brush with an extremely firm grip, carefully concentrating on every line he put down on the paper. Byakuya smiled behind his mask, not letting the amusement even touch his exterior. It seemed his remark the other day had set in.

Like a child just learning his strokes, Renji seemed to have his entire focus on the brush he held. The effect on his handwriting was an extremely positive one, although he was taking quite a long time to complete simple papers. And, although Byakuya didn't want to admit it, he missed Renji's usual scrawl.

As Renji finished with the paper he was working on, he seemed to notice Byakuya's attention. He looked up, annoyance still creasing his brow.

"Need somethin?" Renji asked, sounding impatient and slightly angry.

Byakuya turned his eyes from the paper to meet his fukutaicho's reddish ones, keeping his face blank.

"Renji, if you keep writing so carefully, you'll be here all day," he pointed out, knowing Renji realized this already.

He then swept from the room, hoping Renji would take this properly and understand that the other day's comment about his handwriting hadn't asked for a change. Byakuya knew it was selfish of him to point it out so boldly, but it was the only way he saw that he would get his desired result: his fukutaicho back to his messy, wonderful self.

#

Renji stared at the door his taicho had just left through, the brush shaking in his clenched hand. He tossed it down on his desk, narrowly avoiding the paper he had just completed filling out. Closing his eyes for a moment to calm the sudden anger he'd experienced at his taicho's words, he took the brush up again, grabbing the top paper from the stack before him.

"I'm just never good enough for him, am I?" he said through gritted teeth. "Too messy, too slow, screw it all."

Dipping the brush viciously in his inkpot, he stopped caring about his handwriting, about the need for his paperwork to be legible. Slashing lines across the page in the proper places, he signed his name angrily and shoved the paper aside, grabbing the next one, filling it out in the same manner with much spraying of ink.

Before he knew it, he was done, a ruined and inky stack now sitting in the out box beside his desk. He leaned back in his chair, surveying the destruction, the fruits of his labor. His anger faded greatly at the sight, to be replaced with a slight shame at the mess.

"Whatever," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet, leaving the office with a nearly tangible irritable energy surrounding him.

#

The next day, Byakuya stepped into his shared office about a half an hour earlier than he usually did, relishing the cool morning. Turning toward his desk, he narrowed his eyes slightly. The stacks of paperwork on his desk seemed to be more than they usually were, much more. He picked up one of the top papers, noticing it was actually two papers clipped together.

The first was a blank piece of paperwork, something his fukutaicho would generally deal with. He flipped to the second, and his eyes widened. A mess of ink covered the page. Kanji and Kana were scribbled and scrawled near all the appropriate places, but it was almost impossible to decipher the intent of the ink.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes again, only recognizing the handwriting as his fukutaicho's because he had always enjoyed the way Renji did his strokes, a little over-exaggerated, a little messy. But this chaos wasn't normal even for Renji.

Running his hand through his long hair, Byakuya sighed deeply. He hadn't meant for his fukutaicho to take yesterday's comment this badly. He'd only desired that Renji's handwriting return to its previous state, the scrawls that Byakuya admired when his fukutaicho wasn't around.

_Perhaps he needs a more direct method of informing, one that can't be interpreted as anything else._

Byakuya left the office to find "request for resubmittion" forms, enough to get the message across to his impatient, impossible, wonderful fukutaicho.

#

Renji managed to catch a proper night's sleep for once, avoiding waking up in a painfully stiff situation by the fact that he'd drunk all his stores of sake the previous night, and had therefore fallen asleep sober. A great deal of his angry mood had faded with this dreamless sleep, allowing Renji to enter the office he shared with Byakuya with only his regular glare in place.

He turned toward his desk, and nearly stopped in his tracks. There was at least twice as much paperwork on his desk as there normally was when he strolled in at noon. He moved toward the precariously tall stacks, taking a few papers from the top of one. He found them to be three papers, clipped together. The first was a verification for a mission some of the unranked members of sixth squad wished to participate in. The names and request seemed familiar to Renji, but he couldn't place why.

He lifted this page to get a glance at the second paper, and found his answer. Details and a signature were scrawled near the appropriate lines in an illegible, ink-splattered script. Renji guiltily recognized the fruits of his tantrum from yesterday, but told himself that it was still possible to decipher the writing, though barely so. He lifted this sheet, and found another piece of paperwork, this one filled out in full. It was a short request for the above paperwork to be redone and resubmitted. Renji instantly recognized the graceful script, as well as the kanji at the bottom that constituted a name. Kuchiki Byakuya.

He dug through the stacks of paperwork, finding much of the same: a clean piece of paperwork, a scrawled attempt, and a captain's request for better handwriting, all clipped together to form one statement. Renji turned to face his captain, holding the many papers he'd pulled from the stacks. Byakuya was still doing paperwork, and it looked like he had quite a bit left to complete. He must have spent a good part of the morning filling out the request forms. Renji imagined he must have enjoyed this, filling them out officially and impeccably in his perfect script, one after the other, putting his far-from-perfect fukutaicho in his place.

Renji continued to glare at his taicho, eyes narrowed in anger, waiting for him to glance up. But as the seconds stretched on, Renji decided that Byakuya had anticipated this and was outwardly and purposefully ignoring him, which only worked to further infuriate the redhead. Renji's patience, already short, worked itself toward the end, the anger and frustration of the past few days brimming over, crawling up his throat in a want to be expressed.

He spoke in a sharply calm voice, fighting to hold in his storm of emotions.

"Taicho."

Byakuya didn't glance up, didn't answer for a moment. He came to the end of the line he was writing on, then went to the next, finally speaking.

"Yes, Abarai-san?"

Renji suddenly realized he didn't know what to say. The reason behind his sudden bad handwriting, his tantrum, was something he would never let his taicho know. He settled for sarcastic reply in a self-confident tone, still holding back his true emotions.

"I thought ya didn't care for my 'neat' handwriting," Renji said, emphasizing the papers he held.

Byakuya glanced up through his eyelashes, giving Renji an almost exasperated look.

"I didn't mean for you to lose all regard," he said calmly, setting his brush down after signing the paper he'd been working on. "Paperwork does need to be read by others, after all."

Renji threw the papers he held to the floor, finally eliciting a response from Byakuya, who looked up, his eyes cold. Renji slapped his hands onto Byakuya's desk, leaning forward to meet his taicho's eyes.

"Nothing is ever good enough for you, is it?" he asked, wanting his words to come out in an angry snarl, and but instead finding them almost pleading.

He pushed himself away from Byakuya, storming toward the door, startled to find he was now holding back tears of much more than just anger. Behind him, he heard Byakuya stand, and say softly, almost expressively, "Renji."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Renji didn't want to turn, knowing his emotions would betray him, the look on his face currently one of confusion and despair. But that tone, the way his taicho had just said his name, hadn't sounded cold at all. It had nearly breathed spring breezes toward him, light, tantalizing.

He comprised, waiting a moment to get his emotions more under control, then turning to face Byakuya, expecting the icy facade that nonetheless warmed Renji's thoughts. And he found it, his taicho's manner proper and blank. But the eyes somehow were softened, and stirred memories of something in Renji's mind.

_Ice and fire do not mix. Do not touch me if you cannot control the result. Control must be maintained. . . ._

The images that came with this statement, in Byakuya's light tone, sent a shock through Renji that he had trouble concealing. His taicho continued to regard him with those eyes, those eyes that stirred up memories of lingering icy touches, of sudden warmth, of a kiss. . . .

He took a step forward, barely realizing it, wondering if Byakuya's ice would melt as it had in the dream. Instead he spoke, the words frosting over again to regain his winter.

"I hadn't meant to set you back in your paperwork with my suggestion," he said, authority and proper conduct ringing in his tone. It wasn't an apology, for Byakuya would not apologize to his subordinate, merely a statement to remove the blame from his haori-wearing shoulders. Renji understood this, the words bitter as he repeated them in his head.

But that dream, the sudden remembrance, was worth fighting for, and Renji was determined not to give in. A proper fukutaicho would accept that his taicho meant what he said, and leave it at that. Renji wanted to see behind the words Byakuya had given him, to find the true meaning that shone in those eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, blunt as always, though his tone asked for a deeper understanding.

Byakuya didn't show it, but Renji hoped he was surprised. The weight of the conversation once again rested on him, on his ability to craft his true feelings into something cold and empty.

But he barely missed a beat, keeping Renji's eyes trapped with his own.

"It means it would have been better had you not taken things to the extreme in order to prove something to me."

"What do I need to prove to you?" Renji spat back, shocked that Byakuya understood the true reason behind his outburst. Could that mean. . . .

"If I understood that, I doubt I would be asking you now."

Those eyes had shifted, a new emotion rising to shine in them, something that recalled the dream in Renji's mind sharper than ever.

"What do you need to prove to me?"

"I . . nothing!" Renji said, nearly opening himself up to this man for a moment. Byakuya didn't answer, merely continued to stare, his gaze working to bring the truth to Renji's lips.

"Really?"

"It doesn't matter," Renji forced out, finding that every time he looked away from his taicho his eyes were drawn back, forced to once again meet with the dark grey orbs that seemed to be able to read his soul. Byakuya's voice was softer as he spoke again, nearly sending shivers through Renji's tense form.

"Ever since you became my fukutaicho you have been striving to best me."

Renji didn't answer, feeling somehow cheapened by this statement, feeling as if all his struggling thoughts and emotions could be summed up in so few words. Yet his taicho understood him in this much, maybe. . . maybe he would understand, if Renji told him. . . .

"Why?"

The word was delivered in the same blank tone, a question that brought Renji back into reality, where what he ached to say couldn't be made known. He clenched his jaw to hold everything back and inhaled deeply, forcing any thought that had made its way to his tongue back into his mind, to stay hidden.

"Why not? I want ta be stronger. That's it."

"You could look after Kenpachi in that case, as you once did, or Genryuusai-dono. But you stay here, continuing to push at me, trying to prove yourself to me. So what do you truly feel you need to prove?"

"Maybe that yu're actually a human being?!" Renji spat out, forgetting himself for a moment.

Byakuya was more than a little shaken by this sudden remark, but didn't show it, merely raised an eyebrow at his fukutaicho's choice of words.

"Ya know what I mean!" Renji growled, his eyebrows knotted with anger and frustration and something else he didn't care to think about.

"Despite the flaw in your logic, I actually do not quite understand your meaning," Byakuya said calmly, as fluid and composed as ever, although he wished to truly express himself, to asked in better terms what his fukutaicho wanted to say.

"Real people have problems, they make mistakes. They ain't constantly goddammed perfect!"

Renji breathed hard, feeling a weight leave his shoulders as he finally expressed his true feelings, although it was almost instantly replaced with another, heavier, weight; the pain of wondering if he'd suddenly burned all his bridges with his taicho.

Byakuya's voice was light, quiet, though merely chilly, rather than his usual freezing cold.

"You really think my life is perfect?"

"Ya make it that way, cut out anything that might disrupt yur perfect _order_ of things," Renji said, wanting to bite back his tongue, but letting it tell Byakuya everything he'd wanted to for so long.

Byakuya continued to stare his fukutaicho down, concealing his emotions, but every time the word "perfect" left those lips he felt a sharp pain deep within his heart. If that was so, if his life had to be "perfect", didn't his fukutaicho understand that he played into this setup, that he was fine, "perfect", the way he was? That he didn't need to change, to act in any way but himself? Perhaps that was the problem, Renji needed to understand what Byakuya really thought, but Byakuya knew that was the one thing he couldn't say, the one thing that would tear his walls down and let his emotions out for the world, or even just Renji, to see.

So he didn't speak, not knowing what to say. He kept his gaze level with Renji, who seemed to be waiting for an answer. When one didn't come, he scoffed and turned his angry eyes away, as though he was going to leave again. The thought of this, of Renji leaving with this conflict unresolved, of him never learning of the feelings Byakuya had for him, hurt him worse than anything else.

"My life isn't perfect. It isn't everything I want it to be," he murmured, catching Renji's attention. Byakuya hoped this would be enough to tide his fukutaicho over, his walls wavering with even this simple statement. He didn't think he could stand to give anymore.

But Renji merely scoffed again and spoke, his words biting into Byakuya's nearly exposed emotions.

"Nah, course it ain't, cause I'm still here. Though I guess that won't be much of a problem anymore."

He turned to leave, for what Byakuya suddenly realized was to be the last time. _Have I really pushed him that far_?

There was nothing left but to risk it all, and give Renji what he wanted, give him something to prove that he fit into Byakuya's life, even if Byakuya couldn't give him a real reason why.

"I'd rather you didn't leave," he began, but didn't give Renji time to protest this. He continued, not trying to overwhelm his fukutaicho with his words, but putting enough emphasis into each one so as to keep him there to hear the next.

"My life wouldn't be quiet the same without you as my fukutaicho."

Byakuya paused to take a breath, knowing he was still avoiding expressing his true feelings, and Renji jumped into the silence, forever competitive.

"What's that s'pposed to mean? Ya seem ta do just fine without me. Don' I just hold ya down?"

A brief thought flickered through Byakuya's head at this last statement, but he barely gave it notice, caring more about the seriousness of the situation than whatever small pleasure the sudden image may have given him.

"I lied. My life is quite perfect the way it is, and I'd rather it didn't change."

No, that still wasn't right. No matter how he tried, Byakuya still couldn't properly convey his true feelings.

"_You'd_ rather it didn't change? Well, maybe it's time for ya ta realize that everything ain't always about you!"

"I realize that. I know that."

Byakuya nearly groaned with the effort. He couldn't think of any way to tell Renji how he truly felt.

"Well, sorry, but I ain't gonna stick around just so you can feel better about yurself! Just so yur life can be perfect!"

Byakuya suddenly realized what the problem was. The way he felt, it couldn't be properly conveyed in words, not matter how he tried. He had to _show_ Renji how he felt.

He took a faltering step forward, followed by a more confident one. One more step and he was before his fukutaicho, standing very close, but not quite as close as he craved to be. Before Renji could react, before the surprise could die from his eyes and once again be replaced by anger, Byakuya closed his eyes and leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss.

Renji didn't move, didn't react, so after a moment Byakuya removed himself, not moving away, not rebuilding his wall of ice. Renji stared back at him, seeming unable to close his mouth or blink, unable to take his eyes from Byakuya.

"Does that explain anything?" Byakuya managed, his heart pounding with fear and a sudden strong desire to kiss Renji again, to string his hands through that long red hair, to feel those strong sculpted muscles and see just how far down those tattoos went. He controlled the second emotion, as he had for as long as he could remember, but the first was harder to manage, as Byakuya was so unused to feeling it. There was a quaver in his voice he couldn't hide.

Renji didn't speak, didn't answer, and Byakuya suddenly found a way to give voice to his feelings.

"If you can't accept your own perfection, then I suppose that I wish for my life to be imperfect, as long as it's a life with you."

With his eyes Byakuya begged Renji to say something, to break the silence, to accept his gesture.

Renji finally closed his mouth, looking to the ground. Byakuya felt a sinking feeling in his heart, felt the silence grow uncomfortable.

Then Renji looked up again, slowly raising his hand until it was level with Byakuya's chin. He ran his hand up his cheek, his pinky gliding over his the edge of his lips, then sliding around to grasp the back of his neck, guiding Byakuya back to his lips with a warm rough kiss that lit Byakuya's heart on fire. Renji's other hand found its way to Byakuya's hip, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Byakuya slid his hand up this arm, caressing it, his other hand finding the small of Renji's back, keeping them together, all the while concentrating more on his lips than anything else, on the amazing feelings that were running through his body.

When they finally broke apart, Byakuya wasn't quite sure what had happened, how they had gotten to the point they were at. They didn't move beside tipping their heads back far enough to meet each others eyes.

"Do ya want to get ta work on all that extra paperwork?" Renji asked, an evil gleam in his eyes.

"Some things are more important than paperwork," Byakuya murmured, a touch of a smile lighting his lips before they were once again captured by Renji.


End file.
